


Back Rooms and Old Rings

by butimnotdeadyet



Series: Nosy Team Flarrow [4]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012), DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: F/M, Gen, ITS BEEN SO LONG, flarrowverse characters are mentioned, there was supposed to be more things in this but it was too long, they are not engagement rings i swear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-24
Updated: 2017-08-24
Packaged: 2018-12-19 06:58:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11892453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/butimnotdeadyet/pseuds/butimnotdeadyet
Summary: The trip should have taken five minutes: get in, drop off the rings, get a price, and then Felicity would be on her way. But, no, the one other customer in the building just had to to be him.Central City's favorite thief just had to choose the same jewelry shop, didn't he.





	Back Rooms and Old Rings

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own any of these nutjobs. Except for Richard, he's mine. So are all the mistakes.
> 
>  
> 
> You don't actually /need/ to have read the other story in the series but it does help.  
> (In short: Post season 1, not written with season 2, Len is alive through unspecified circumstances, he is very much in love with Sara and vice versa. Sara and Len and very good at procrastinating, threatening, and keeping secrets and have yet to tell any of Sara's/mutual friends that they are together through normal, well-adjusted human means)

As she walked, Felicity couldn’t help but to scan the display cases; she was her mother’s daughter and pretty things brought out the more girlish side of her personality, even if she rarely trusted herself to so much as touch. Inside was as advertised, and by  _ advertised  _ she meant ‘looked the same as the insurance pictures that she had seen under questionable circumstances while verifying the shop’s location’.

 

It’s not like she was snooping into  _ financial records  _ or something completely illicit, at least. Shades of gray, and all. . .

 

The pictures had been too low quality (and she had been into much of a rush, her mother was coming  _ this weekend)  _ to consider the interior decorating all that closely, but she was happily surprised. Most jewelers that she had frequented before (i.e. visit once) were either incredibly austere love letters to the vain-at-heart, with gleaming plate glass a mirror on every smooth surface, or looked like they doubled as a pawn shop - accented by the barred windows and doors with some many shelves of dusty merchandise that you can barely see the dated, pin-holed panelling, but  _ Carp’s on 9th _ seemed to be the exception. 

 

Despite being almost empty, only one other customer on the floor, there was still an air of calm ambiance. No feeling the need to speak at a volume under 25 decibels, no uncomfortable chill that would have made her want for the jacket she had left in her Mini. The muted silvers and golds even played well with the warm wood tones and deep green carpet. Perfect. 

 

The only catch was that Felicity hadn’t laid eyes on the sale rep. If the internet was to be believed - and in her case, it  _ usually _ was - she should be greeted by the owner and proprietor Richard Carp. Apart from the door chime and a brief glance from the other customer, she was unnoticed. A little odd for such a heavily sentimentality-focused business.

 

She heard a rustling in the back room - separated from the main room by a thick curtain, pulled half out of the way - and guessed that the man in front of her was waiting for an item, so she waited, coming to a standstill several feet to the left of her fellow customer. 

 

Felicity, always prepared spent the next several minutes tapping away on her phone answering emails and the like, even considered pulling out her tablet for maximum productivity but decided against it when remembering how a desk clerk had once purposefully disregarded her due to lack of ‘attentiveness’. Some people really couldn’t stand the idea of proper time management.

 

As time ticked past, she noticed that the man was slowly getting agitated - shifting more and more the longer that he waited - and Felicity began to hope that the rep would appear sooner rather than later. An outburst about lost time would mean that her grandmother’s rings would take even longer to be cleaned and Oliver would question where she was and  _ then  _ ask why she hadn't just let him to the cleaning and polishing and she really didn’t want to answer those questions, especially since she was lacking a good answer. 

 

The rustling continued, occasionally punctuated by a bump or scratch.  _ Now _ the man was sighing, sounding like he ready to hop the desk and go to the back himself. Felicity glanced up from her screen, paused in the typing of a rather scathing review of the motherboard she’d purchased a while back (what lunatic doesn’t coat an ‘ _ all _ -condition’s system’ with repulsive nano spray; sure, it's not like it's designed to be used for intensive climate control in a naturally moist secret lair slash hero cave five stories underground, but  _ still,  _ promises were made) and chanced a glance to her left. 

 

At best, she was expecting a commiserating glance and a put-upon eyeroll; worst, a snarl about waiting her damned turned, maybe a slur - gotta cover the bases with the citizens of Star. What she was not expecting was a familiar face. It was a testament to how  _ unbelievable  _ the situation Felicity found herself in at that moment that it took a number of seconds and a double take to  _ recognize  _ the man beside her.

 

Leonard Snart.

 

Right? Of course. There couldn’t possibly be two people with that face.

 

Leonard “Captain Cold” Snart was standing in her local jewelry store. 

 

Had to be him. Barry would have told them if a breacher or shapeshifter or whatever else kind of science fiction horror show that was happening in Central had made its way west.

 

Leonard “Almost killed Barry, and maybe will one day” Snart was beside her.

 

And staring angrily into the back room of the store, from where she had yet to see any worker leave and that likely housed the safe, which probably had the most expensive and large stone, and  _ antiques, _ and (since Felicity had seen the bank statements or lack there of) all off the money that this _ little family owned shop has made this month! _

 

He probably ordered Mr. Carp into the back to bag all the goods while he stayed out front to keep an eye on things, weapon(s) hidden from sight - or to make a hostage of the next person that walked in - maybe even he had a partner in the back with the poor man. Carp was old, nearing 80, not like he would need much convincing-

 

“If you’re done poorly assessing my present level of villainy, Ms. Smoak, we can go about our respective businesses as soon as Carp comes back out with my item.”

 

He remembered her. Of course he did,  _ he _ was a man that would remember someone who threatened him with a shock vac. He’d probably recognized her the moment she came through the door and took some not-so-small amount of pleasure at her being the one that walked into his little heist. 

All she had to do was slip her hand into her purse and grab the taser- 

 

“Believe it or not,  _ Felicity _ , I am here for consumer purposes only.” It was like he could  _ read her mind. _ Well, that or she really was as bad of a telegrapher as John said. “Though the longer that the good Mr. Carp keeps me waiting the more tempted I am to misbehave. Who would knowingly leave as talented  of a crook as myself unguarded in their place of business?”

 

Snart made a show of taking an extended look around the room, appraising with his eyes. She could practically see the dollar signs ringing up in his pupils before he turned back to her with a wink. 

 

“Probably a man who’s scared for his life.”

 

He shrugged, completely lax to the suggestion, “He and I have an arrangement. Not that it would be unwise of him to be cautious - as I have made a meager living off besting the people best of his trade - but fear won’t do him any good.”

 

“So you’re not . . .?” Felicity didn’t need to say it, though a hundred iterations of ‘gonna steal this citizen’s livelihood out from under him’ came to mind, but instead she let the question hang as a half formed accusation.

 

“On the clock? No. As long as he performs the services due me, and gets me the piece, we’ll part ways on good terms, both satisfied and better off than we were previously.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“And what about you, Ms. Smoak?”

 

She only gawked at the civil attempt at conversation, so he pressed onward.

 

“If Carp had been timely I would have all but passed you out the door, without confrontation or identification - on your behalf, of course - but since it appears that our complacency is been eaten alive by his caustic disorder, here we are. Might as well speak like the old acquaintances we are.” He smiled with the little, tight-lipped curve that Felicity remembered, but seeing his eyes changed the entire look. Still snide, and a bit threatening, but nowhere near the edge of mania that she’d witnessed years ago.

 

“Fine.” She was never much one for talking through grating teeth, but now didn’t seem like a moment for explosive expression. 

 

“So, what are you in for? I promise not to make off with it.”

 

Felicity felt her shoulder’s slip into something near defensive, preparing to shoot back with derision, but the politeness that he offered was hard to surpass. After some consideration she fished out the rings from the keepsake pocket of her purse, holding them up enough to be visible.

 

“They were from my grandmother, probably older but we don’t know for sure. I realized that a few stones need to be reset, and some of them cleaned, and my mother’s coming into town so I figured it would be as good a’ time to get them done as any.”

 

He held out his hand and had the audacity to roll his eyes when she hesitated, “I told you, I won’t bolt out the door with your family jewels, Smoak.” He plucked them from her palm as he spoke, turning them over in his hand. “Though you may prefer that I did, get a chance to take a little revenge for all the pain I’ve put Allen through, hmm?” 

 

“Don’t try me. My friends say I have a hair trigger when it comes to shooting bad guys.” He couldn’t know about the brand spankin’ new taser she had resting against her wallet in her bag at that very moment, but it almost felt like he  _ did. _

 

“I’ve met most of your friends. Can’t say they have any room to talk.”

 

He had a point, though she would have to do a cross reference to figure out who he had actually run into since taking up the cold gun for the Legends.

 

“What about you then, picking up a watch? In Star? Thought you were all possessive over of Central.” The ‘grabby fingers’ gesture may have been too much, but it got the point across.

 

“Hmm, you’re correct - about Central,  _ I _ would have my work done _ locally _ \- but this isn’t for me. Just a repair job that required a deft hand.”

 

“And? Come on, I showed, you can tell. If we’re playing nice it's gotta be one-for-one, Cold.” He, honest to God, smirked at her. 

 

“Yes, and the rings are lovely, though-”

 

Finally, the curtain to the back was shoved aside in full and Mr. Carp appeared, with sweat on his brow, jumping eyes, and a small velvet bag clasped between slightly shaking fingers.

 

“Oh, thank God, you’re still here! I thought I was going to have to chase you down.”

 

“Do I seem like the type to leave  _ without _ what is mine?” His voice had lost the consideration that he had spoken with to her, falling into his more chilling patterns with what would have been unnerving ease if Felicity hadn’t spent the last several years listening to ‘Arrow Voice’ smoothly melt into Oliver’s normal speech patterns and back again in a heartbeat.

 

“No, of course not, Mr. Snart. I am sorry that it took so long, one of the managers must have catalogued it with an estate that came in and since you stipulated ‘off the books’, no one noticed. I had to dig it out-” 

 

“It’s all fine, Mr. Carp. As long as the repairs are up to my standards, that is.” 

 

The man moved forwards, nearly tripping as he mumbled his agreement and assurances, before dropping the little drawstring pouch into Snart’s waiting hand, retreating several steps again once doing so, claiming to get out of the thief's light.  

 

Long finger’s upended the bag and a necklace slipped out, resting against his thumb as he turned the oval pendant with a flick. Snart nodded, likely more for the shopkeeper's nerves than out of his own contentedness, and picked up the chain, pulling the necklace to full suspension since the clasp was already hooked. Felicity caught his eyes moving along the entire length, checking, before extending out ward, towards her. 

 

“You showed me yours.”

 

It was . . .  _ pretty _ \- not something overly flashy like she had automatically assumed he would be handling. Instead it was a pleasant gold color with the chain accented by a pair round stones, each mounted along the length about two inches above the centerpiece - an oval mother of pearl disc, surrounded by more little clear stones. Felicity didn’t know what work could possibly have been done, but whatever it was seemed to be up to snuff. At least to her untrained eye.

 

“Your lady-friend should be very happy, Mr. Snart. I was able to save or replace all of the links so it will lay exactly like it did before. . . Right beneath her throat, yes?”

 

Snart hummed his agreement and let out a half smirk as Felicity stroke a finger along the chain and bezels, “And the price was as discussed, $190 in all? Minus the  _ convenience  _ fees I’ve provided after our consultation last week.”

 

“Yes, sir.” If she were to bet, those fees would be anything but convenient to someone who was not the owner of a Fortune 500 company or an internationally renowned thief. “I must admit that while at first I couldn’t fathom why you would pay to have such repairs done on a piece that you could just as easily replace - at a cheaper price, too - that is, until I saw the inscription-”

 

“Certain things are irreplaceable, even with funds like mine. I assure you. And this was a gift.” 

 

With that the necklace was swept out of sight and a small wad of bills was dropped onto the counter in front of the still profusely sweating jeweler. No signing of paperwork, no exchange of receipts, and Snart stepped away from the counter.

 

When Mr. Carp’s eyes moved to meet Felicity’s for the first time outside of blind panic, she stepped forward, the trio of rings ready and waiting to be passed over. Until a hand shot out in front of her own, blocking her path.

 

“I think that will be all, Richard. Thank you.” And with that, Snart herded Felicity away from the counter and to the door with a hand that first guided the rings back into her purse then came to rest gently on her elbow.

 

In a moment of complete insanity, she followed him without protest.

 

It wasn’t until they were on the street, with the plate glass door closing behind them that she spoke, meaning to ask about his surprise intervention but instead-

“So, what was the inscription? I only saw that front.”

 

Snart huffed, but seemed to acknowledge that some kind of allowance would have to be made for her failed errand. He pulled the little bag from where he had stowed it in his breast pocket and handed it over for inspection. Felicity picked the chain out and turned it into the light of the now fading sun to make out the fine scripting on the reverse side.

 

Canaries Forever

              -Laurel

 

Felicity stuttered to a stop as she read the words, taking in the text and style at once. Laurel had always had perfect handwriting, something that the hacker had admired since all of her writing had been digitally based since she was twelve, and it was unmistakable. The engraving must have been done by special order, especially if what Carp had said was true and the necklace was still for sale at some larger retailer. And of course, it was not lost on her that the pendant could only belong to one person. 

 

Snart seemed to take her stilled silence as license to elaborate. 

 

“It was for Sara’s 28 birthday, one of the last thing that Laurel ever gave her. She started wearing it habitually after her death.” He was looking straight ahead, despite having stopped next the Felicity when her legs took a vacation, and sounded the most solemn that she had ever heard him - not that it was a far stretch based on her exposure.

“But, in our line of work, nothing is ever sacred. Some asshole cut it off her in a fight, snapped the chain and shattered the shell. Raymond and Gideon tried to fix it, but there was only so much that they can do without refabricating the entire thing. I’d been looking for a worthwhile repair shop for weeks before finding Carp’s. The repairs are seamless, just don’t trust him or his associates with anything of high monetary value.”

 

“That’s why you stopped me from giving the rings to him? He must be very untrustworthy if  _ you _ won’t back the deal.” She started moving again, heading up the street to the parking deck, with Snart following in pace.

 

“You wound me, Ms. Smoak. Truly.” He sounded very much as though he took pride in the metaphorical wounds she had inflicted. “But, no, I wouldn’t trust him without an impressive incentive at play - usually harm to his life or his lottery-won Aston Martin, which are really one in the same. If you ever want anything cleaned, just ship it to Casper’s Fine Jewelry in Central. Not a quick turn around, certainly not in time for your mother, but it's better than having your precious stone replaced for colored glass.”

 

“Oh, inside knowledge, Cold? How do I know that you won’t just wait to steal you ‘family jewels’ until they’re out of state?”

 

“I’ve stolen Casper’s entire display room twice - if the CCPD is to be believed,” he accented the statement with a smirk that had probably seen its fair share of interrogation rooms because of that very topic, “but they do good work, I’ve always been impressed.”

 

“Impressed by the items you're not admitting to stealing.”

The smirk didn’t waver. If anything, it widened. Jackass.

But there were more pressing matter at hand, like . . .

 

“So, when Carp said ‘lady-friend’ . . . is there something I’m supposed to infer from that? Because Thea insist that Sara is not interested in the unfairly proportionate and symmetrical electrician that was working on her building when we were there last month and here you are paying out the pocket for the repair of a prized possession and  _ I’ve heard  _ that the Waverider had proven to be a little bit of a love boat; not to mention that I think Sara has a thing for men and women with questionable backgrounds and moral compasses - of which you, sir, are both and you can stop me at any time, here. . .”

 

During her episode of intense babbling she had watched his face as best she could, trying to read for any indication as to marks being made or missed - and she succeeded. There was a little raise to his eyebrow and the left side of his mouth and - maybe she was imagining it, which is possible because she was more than a little in awe of the events of the past half hour - there  _ looked _ to be a little pink on his ears.

 

“So - I guess it's safe to assume that you haven’t had lunch with Sara, yet?” He drew the question out, like if he spoke slower the conversation would die a quick and painless death. No way, she was invested.

 

“I mean we had plans for Saturday but with my mom in town, I don’t know. But I guess it could be perfect opportunity for a breather - or a buffer, Sara gets along with  _ everyone,  _ I swear -” then something clicked, “Oh! You mean that she-!”

 

“Yes. I think there was something about girl code requiring full disclosure when dating someone that had previously threatened a friend's life - for which I am unapologetic, in case you were wondering - and. . .”

 

“So, yo- you’re dating a hero. Leonard Snart, mascot for Centrals most psychotic, is dating a  _ hero.  _ Barry is going to flip-” Felicity didn’t even get a chance to finish her description of what  _ exactly  _ Barry would flip before Snart rained on her parade.

 

“Much too bad that you won’t be the one to tell him, though, isn’t it? And to be clear, Jesse is far more insane than I am. Trust me.”

 

“Wha-? Whatever. But, he already knows and didn’t tell me? Okay that is  _ way _ more annoying than Sara dragging her feet.” Oh, that boy owed her a whole lot more than Sara’s Saturday lunch if it were true.

 

“He does, but he was sworn to secrecy by none other than the master assassin herself; can't even gossip to Ramon without threat of complete spinal bisection.” Snart had a look that could have been the thesaurus reference for ‘Too pleased with one’s self’, but yeah, she couldn’t blame Barry for want to keep the full use of his spinal cord, even if he’d heal.

 

Now, it seemed, it was his turn to stop abruptly, though with far more purpose than Felicity had. They were still half a block from the deck, but a motorcycle - large with black and chrome and a few hints of blue - was parked at the curb. Definitely illegal and definitely Cold’s; ideas that were proven when the criminal threw one leg over the bike and balanced it off of its stand. 

 

“Fine, fine. But who is ‘in the know’, ya know? ‘Cause this is going to require some back channeling of information.” 

 

“Yourself, Queen the younger, Curtis Holt, the Scarlet Imbecile, all of whom I believe have started a group chat for the very reason that you’ve suggested: they all seem to care greatly about what is happening behind mine and Sara’s closed doors.”

 

“Casper’s in Central, Smoak. Send me word beforehand and I may even make sure that no one knocks it over while your possessions are in-store.” 

 

And with that, he turned over the engine and kicked off, leaving Felicity to wonder just how much she should or shouldn’t worry about Sara Lance’s taste in lovers. Then she pulled out her phone and drafted a text with comparable viciousness to the review she had written in the shop, leading with ‘Bartholomew Henry Allen, you secret keeping fiend’ in all caps and what some would describe as too many exclamation marks.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I have either lost all ability to manage story length or i never had it in the first place.
> 
> Anyway, more additions will be written - likely when I am doing anything but the work required for my 18 hours of courses this semester. Also, I am noodling the idea of a companion/parallel piece that predates all of these and is about Len telling Lisa / Lisa meeting Sara. Thoughts?
> 
> This story feels a little different than the one so far because the couple (or Len, in this case) isn't really looking for approval or acceptance from Felicity in the same way that he/she/they have been with the others. He was mostly going for awareness moving forward and the possibility of being courteous working acquaintances in the future.
> 
> Here is, according to google, the Laurel necklace that Sara/Caity wears in s2 that I adopted for this story:  
> https://www.freidarothman.com/products/yrz070187b-tq?variant=10240395972
> 
> Comments and the like are always welcome and appreciated!  
> Much love,  
> Gin


End file.
